Save the Last Dance for Me
by Lyowyn
Summary: This is just a oneshot I wrote a while ago. Ennis remembers Jack. It's a bit fluffy toward the end.


Author's Note: This isn't really in my usual style; it's more like my Philadelphia fic. This is just a one-shot; I wrote it a year ago and figured I should put it up in case anyone was interested.

Disclaimer: Brokeback Mountain is a short story by Annie Proulx. Save the Last Dance for Me is a song by the Drifters.

Ennis had been thinking about Jack a lot over the last few weeks: reminiscing all the things that had happened over the last twenty years. It seemed and endless stream of memories, each more painful than the last, but the one that his mind kept coming back to most often was dancing: dancing with Jack to that long forgotten song.

It was August, and so hot that even a high altitude fuck was out of the question. They had moved down into the foothills of one of the many mountain ranges that they frequented during their little "fishing trips."

Ennis had suggested going swimming earlier in the day, and that had satiated Jack for a while, but the heat was playing a dangerous game with both of their tempers.

They were sitting by the dead fire in amiable silence when Jack had finally had enough and burst out with, "Christ, Ennis! Can't you ever say anything? We've been coming up here to fuck for the past ten years. I'd hope you'd be comfortable enough to speak to me once in a while even if you don't seem to be feelin' comfortable enough to do the other thing."

Ennis sighed; he didn't say anything, but slid closer to Jack and took the smaller man in his arms. Jack was hot and sweaty, and his cheek stuck to the side of Ennis' face.

"It's just too damn hot." Jack moved around uncomfortably and tried to situate himself better. "Maybe I should just head back to Texas tonight; it will be worse in the morning, and we just got a new air conditioner at home."

This seems to catch Ennis' attention finally, as he moved to bring Jack closer to him, and spoke the first he had in the last hour. "Don't. It'll cool down some tonight yet, and we'll make up for lost time. It's probably going to be a while before I can get up here again, so please don't leave until the morning."

Jack pulled away from him so quickly Ennis had to wonder whether he had ever been there at all.

"What do you mean, it might be a while? You said we'd come up next month for a week before the snow comes."

Ennis reached for Jack's shoulder to pull him back, but Jack brushed him off. "Look, Jack, that was before I lost my job at that cattle ranch in Bixbie. My new trail boss wants help bringing in the cattle in September. There's not much I can do."

"Yes there is," Jack said, not looking at Ennis' eyes.

"We've been over this before Jack."

"Never bother about my feelings," Jack muttered. Then he spoke up, "I'm sick of being just another easy fuck to you Ennis."

"You've never been that, Jack Twist." In fact, in terms of emotional turmoil, Jack was the hardest person to fuck Ennis could imagine. But, on the other hand, being without him was far worse than going against upbringing.

Jack let out a deep breath. "I'm going home tonight, Ennis. Maybe it is better if we don't come up next month. I think I need a break from your shit."

Ennis stood up. "Please don't Jack. Stay the night so you can leave on good terms in the morning. I can't think of you mad at me all winter long."

Jack spun on his heels. "All winter! All fucking winter!" Jack was breathing heavily now, and going blotchy. "Enough of this Ennis, I've had enough. I don't fucking care anymore. I'll find someone else," he said in a tear-hoarsened whisper.

"Jack…"

He didn't turn; he grabbed the small pack he'd brought with him, and started off through the woods toward his truck.

"Jack," Ennis called desperately. "What about Brokeback?" It was a hail Mary pass and he knew it, but he was willing to try anything.

Jack stopped and turned back, and for a moment Ennis thought that they would go into their tent and take out their frustrations with each other in the way that they were used to.

"If after fifteen years that's the best you can come up with, fuck Brokeback too."

But even Jack knew, as he ran through the underbrush in the cowboy boots his wife bought him, that even if Ennis would agree to build a cabin up in Montana, Brokeback Mountain would still be the best he could come up with.

Because that's just what it was: the best.

Ennis caught up with Jack as he was getting into his truck. He was out of breath, and he'd ripped the instep on one of his boots when he'd tripped over a fallen log.

Jack had already started his truck and Ennis was caught in the headlights like a deer.

"Fuck, Jack," he gasped an instant before he heard the door slam shut.

Ennis swallowed hard, biting back the sick feeling in his stomach he got every time Jack left. He stood that way, with his head bowed, panting in Jack's headlights and waiting to be left in the dust.

But Jack didn't drive off and leave Ennis in the dust, and Ennis found himself suddenly cloaked in darkness as Jack turned off his headlights. Ennis looked up, but Jack remained in his truck.

The truck was new, but Jack treated it with considerably less care than the old one. Ennis walked slowly toward the dust covered side of the pickup, almost as though he was afraid he'd startle Jack into driving off. Ennis paused for a moment with his hand on the door handle.

He could see Jack inside the cab, resting his head in his arms atop the steering wheel, looking like the most exhausted man in the whole world.

Ennis couldn't think of a single thing to say that would knock that look of sheer exhaustion off Jack's face. But then, Ennis had never been one for words.

He eased the door open slowly, still treating Jack like a spooked horse. Jack picked his head up off the steering wheel and looked at Ennis with a tear-streaked face. Ennis dried Jack's cheek with one corner of his sleeve, and pulled him bodily from the vehicle.

Jack slumped against Ennis' shoulder and let out a restrained sob.

"Hush now," Ennis whispered, wrapping one arm around Jack's waist and running the other through the soft hair at the nape of Jack's neck.

The radio in Jack's truck transitioned from an advertisement for tire repair to a slow country song. Ennis couldn't remember which one now, but it was sad and low and beautiful.

Ennis let out a long slow sigh. "I need you Jack Twist," he breathed into Jack's hair. "Stay." Ennis felt Jack nod, and he let out another sigh this one of relief.

He began to sway back and forth slowly, Jack's weight resting comfortably in his arms. Jack nestled his head in the crook of Ennis' neck, and let himself be lead in slow revolutions. Ennis remembered how they kicked up dust in a cloud like red smoke. He remembered how the cab light illuminated Jack's features: only hinting at his beauty. But most of all, he remembered how Jack felt in his arms: hot and sweaty, but somehow perfect. Not at all like the barmaid, Jack's body was firm and muscled, a compliment to his own.

When the song ended, Ennis put a hand around each of Jack's arms and held him at arm's length, examining him.

"You don't quit cryin' an folks will think you're queer," Ennis said softly. And when Jack raised his eyes to meet Ennis', he pulled the smaller man into his arms for a deep and much needed kiss. Jack stumbled as Ennis pulled him in and ended up being supported in his arms.

They broke away after a long while, lips tingling and taking in breath.

"Well," Jack said after he caught his breath. "We certainly wouldn't want anyone to think that." Jack paused, closing his eyes contentedly, and smiled the first time he had all night. "It's been a long time since you've kissed me like that. Maybe it'll be worth staying after all."

Ennis smirked, "Why that almost sounds like a challenge."

"Anything'll make you stop complaining about the heat and rise to the occasion," Jack mumbled into Ennis' ear.

"I think I feel a breeze."


End file.
